The Dusky Night

The dusky night rides down the sky, And ushers in the morn, The hounds all join in jovial cry, The huntsman winds his horn. And a hunting we will go, &c.

The wife around her husband throws Her arms to make him stay, My dear it rains, it hails, it blows, You cannot hunt to-day. Yet a hunting we will go, &c.

Sly Reynard now like light'ning flies, And sweeps across the vale, But when the hounds too near he spies He drops his bushy tail. Then a hunting, &c.

Fond echo seems to like the sport, And join the jovial cry, The woods and hills the sound retort, And music fills the sky, When a hunting, &c.

At last his strength to faitness worn, Poor Reynard ceases flight, Then hungry homeward we return To feast away the night. And a drinking. &c.

Ye jovial hunters in the morn Prepare then for the chace, Rise at the sounding of the horn, And health with sport embrace, When a hunting, &c.